


Switch

by morgan_cian



Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, F/M, M/M, Riding Crops, Spanking, Switching, crop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 00:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan_cian/pseuds/morgan_cian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A switch goes to meet a potential Domme and finds much more, from the POV of the male switch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Switch

Tyler stood before the door and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. He just had to reach up and clasp the ornate knocker in the shape of a faerie that flirted with him. To say that he felt excited and nauseous was an understatement.

She was behind the door. Waiting.

They had met through a mutual friend. Mallory knew way too much about Tyler for her own good. He couldn’t keep a secret from her, much less his needs. She had been worried about the destructive path that he been forging and intervened. With a handwritten address in elegant script, Miranda Moore, a Domme, had expressed a cautious interest in him.

Her gentle dominance began from the first note. He would respond to her letters in no less than twenty four hours, in neat handwriting, electronic communication in any form would not be accepted. Miranda had laid the line for him to toe in no uncertain terms. She would chide him in her responses, subtle ways to humiliate him in the way he structured his sentences, his penmanship. She had him crumpling up balls of paper and breaking pencils in to pieces.

And he wanted more. He craved her, he desired to serve her. He had the written contract in his back pocket of his jeans. All she had to do was sign it and he would be on his knees.

If she would, and there lay his nervousness. Miranda had hinted at more but had cagily left him with questions. Just her written words had him hard, what would she be like?

It made Tyler flush with embarrassment that his hand trembled when it grasped the iron, cool beneath his fingertips. Miranda’s directions had said to knock twice, count to five, and then knock three times. He would then have to count to twenty before opening the door. Inside the foyer, he would strip down and fold his clothes neatly. Sit them beside the door on top of his shoes. His folded contract would wait on top of his clothes.

He was to give himself twenty seconds to breathe and settle his nerves. She would be waiting in the library. The door was closed just opposite from him. Tyler’s body rippled with gooseflesh as he stood before yet another door waiting to be opened. His stomach cramped viciously, his cock half hard against his smooth thigh. She had been very firm that no body hair was a given.

One knock.

“Come in, Tyler.” Her voice was smoke and cream. He shuddered as he pushed open the door. And his stomach dropped to his feet.

She sat like a queen on her throne. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun at her nape and glasses perched on a slim slope of nose. She wore a white button up shirt that revealed just a hint of cleavage. About her throat was three strands of a pearls in the form of a choker. Her legs were crossed, the black skirt tight against her thighs. Tyler’s mouth watered at the black patent leather boots that traveled up her calves.

Miranda closed the book with a snap. She did not smile. Instead she stood up, her arms clasped behind her back, reminding him of a grammar school teacher. His cock lifted in response.

Tyler heard a drawer open and rustling. He wanted to turn, his curiosity getting the better of him. However, he kept himself still. He wanted this. He wanted to serve Miranda and he definitely did not want to start off badly.

He almost started when her small hand circled his left wrist. She chuckled, warming his insides even has her other hand slid down his arm. Tyler relaxed into her touch instinctively.

“There must be ritual in all things,” She said as leather wrapped seductively around his wrists, his arms maneuvered to the small of his back. Soft black bondage rope slithered across his chest and across his biceps. Her movements were efficient and safe, above his pressure points, and enough pressure to tug his arms even further back. He looked down and saw his nipples were in tight aroused buds above the black rope.

“So pretty,” Her sharp nails raked across his nape as she stood in front of him. Her dark hair had slipped across her forehead. Tyler longed to touch her, to stroke that hair away from her eyes, to cradle her smaller form against his. She barely came to the middle of his chest and yet his knees trembled to kneel before her.

“Yet so unworthy,” her nails scratched at the tender, sensitive skin of his hairless ball. He exhaled through his nose. Miranda efficiently tugged his balls through a cock ring before securing a cage that had his cock trying to strain against it. She snapped her fingers “Follow me, pretty.”

She sat regally; Tyler followed her signal to kneel at her feet. Her expression gentled as she stroked her fingers down his cheek. He pressed into her hand as she carded his hair, “You have done very well.” She sat back into her chair and put her glasses aside on top of her book. “You pass today’s test, pretty, and you’ll have your signed contract, possibly with some new provisions.” Tyler noticed the freckles dotting her nose, he felt like drowning in her dark liquid eyes. “Is that satisfactory, Tyler?”

He licked his dry lips, “Only if it is satisfactory to you, Mistress.”

She chuckled and tugged his head back. Her nails scratched at his throat. It was all that he could do to bite back a whine. “Good answer, pretty, but you haven’t earned the right to call me that,” She paused, “yet. Ma’am will be fine for now.” Her soft accent appeared, coating her words like honey.

Miranda traced his features with her fingertips, “You will serve me well, pretty, I could see it in the effort you put into your words. I’m very pleased with what I see.” Her eyes traveled over his naked form. “You will use your mouth to serve me, your body pleases me.” Her pointed toe of her boot lifted Tyler’s heavy balls, “I have no need of this.” Her head cocked to the side, “but all is not so bad. You will see, pretty, pretty boy.”

He was so mesmerized by her voice and her eyes; he did not notice the simple riding crop in her hand. The leather tapped the curve of his buttocks. His hips snapped in the shock of the sensation and he could not hold back his groan. He had to please her; he wanted to be at her feet. Tyler did not want Miranda to send him away.

She sat forward in her chair; the movement slid the fabric of her skirt upwards. Her boots ended at her knee, Tyler could see the black silk of her stockings. She cupped his chin with her hand, “Use your mouth, pretty, serve me.” The leather snapped against the cleft of his ass. “Consider that a warning if you don’t,” She pressed a kiss his forehead, her nails biting once more. “Or you might consider it a reward.” Miranda whispered against his skin. Her knees opened allowing him space in between them.

Tyler’s eyes shuttered close. He could smell her and it made his mouth water. He struggled against his bonds, feeling clumsy and unworthy. Scuttling back on his knees, he lowered his head to the toe of her glossy boots. His shoulders shook as he nuzzled against the leather, rubbing his lips against the supple texture. The snap of the crop made him lose his balance, Tyler’s weight caught on his shoulder. He craned his neck to check for her disapproval. Miranda’s face was stoic; the snap of the crop to her boot seemed to be a warning.

His muscles trembled but he used his back and thighs to move himself upright once more. With more grace, Tyler lowered his head to the toe of Miranda’s boot and kissed it reverently. The leather of the crop slithered down his back to rest above his ass. He pressed his cheek against the soft, warm leather covering her calf. His eyes closed at the sensation, feeling her heat beneath the supple boot. Using his thighs, he slid upward, to the delicate curve of knee, where leather gave way to silk. His moan was accompanied by two sharp snaps of crop, each laying into the cheeks of his ass. Tyler kissed her thigh, just beneath the lace in gratitude.

Miranda’s thighs opened more and bathed his face in the heat of her musk. Her skirt pushed back into her hips revealing the object of his service. Tyler licked his lips as the strikes of the crop became more even, heating him from the outside to match the warmth of peace on the inside. She was bare and glistening.

He breathed her in and waited. She had commanded the use of his mouth but he was too lowly to assume he could just take. He was in her service at her command. The crop stopped and her hand went into his hair, tugging it by the roots, lifting his eyes to her own darkened gaze. “Good boy, pretty, such a good boy.” The crop slapped him playfully, “You may.”

Tyler kissed her soft flesh, just above the slit. He inhaled her scent and let it wash over him. His mind began to break apart, his body relaxing as his tongue slid in gently to touch her hooded nub. Miranda hissed above him, tugging his hair, pulling him closer as her hips tilted upward, demanding more.

Sensations of warm, wet, soft, musky flooded Tyler as his tongue was drenched, sliding deeper into her the part of her slit. As he found the opening, he paused, unsure if he could please her there. Miranda merely guided him with a soft hand to his hair and brutal strokes of the crop that left him hot and bruised. He found his rhythm to pleasure her, matching it to the snap and pop of leather.

Tyler groaned into her as her leg draped over his shoulder, tugging him deeper. Leather against his sweaty skin, the fire of the crop, the promise of softness in lace and silk, he worshiped her with his mouth. The sweet moisture dripped from his chin and onto his chest.

Miranda’s orgasm was not loud, it was subtle. Her thighs clenched and the crop stopped falling. She moaned quietly as her pleasure fed him. Tyler did not stop until her hands tugged him away. Her dark eyes studied him even as his own gaze was bleary. She gave him a tired smile and a kiss to the forehead.

He felt like liquid as she arranged him on the plush rug beside her chair, his chest cuddled, his cock, tortured, and his face turned to the side. He could feel her small hands checking his arms, his restraints. His hips ground into the floor, reminding him of the bite of the cage as she soothed his heated bruised skin. Tyler keened as she washed his face with a warm, wet cloth. He didn’t want to lose that connection to her, her mark on his skin.

“Sssshhhh, hush now,” Her tone was firm and her touch to his hair, light. He could feel himself sinking under her touch, needing sleep and feeling safe enough to let go.

When Tyler woke, he could tell that there had been a change. Subtle, like Miranda herself, but definitely there, he twisted in his bonds and felt the tingle of blood flow. Hissing, he tried to move some more when he came eye to eye with a very male shoe. Nervous fear singing through Tyler as he craned his neck to look up and up and up some more, to a very elegantly dressed imposing male looking down upon him…

…with Miranda at his side.

A very different Miranda, gone was the cool collected Domme that he had served with his mouth as she rewarded him with the sweet pain of the crop. This Miranda was young, almost awkward and coltish. Gone was the power of dominance and it was replaced with the sweet serenity of submission. Tyler’s mouth dropped open with realization, his fantasy Domme was like him, a switch.

“You were right, baby girl,” the man intoned, his voice slithering into Tyler like a serpent ready to strike. “Very pretty and I think he understands as well.” The man wore dress pants. His button down shirt had been loosened at the collar as if a tie had been removed. The cuffs were rolled back exposing strong forearms and soft dark hair.

Miranda was dressed just as the man had called her. A fresh scrubbed face, a short sundress that skimmed her knees, bare legs and feet, she wore another strand of pearls around her neck. It made sense to Tyler; pearls were the man’s mark of ownership on Miranda. Her long hair was pulled back into a simple pony tail.

The man lifted Miranda’s face by her chin and kissed her possessively. His hand went to her shoulder, a signal that her sliding to her knees in front of him. Her head nuzzled against his thigh, her open palms rested on her thighs.

“I have been rude, pretty boy,” The man straightened his tie, “My name is Alain. The rest you will get to know in time, if you so choose, but know this. I own my baby girl, Miranda is mine, so by association you will belong to me as well.”

Tyler bit back a moan. How could they have known? He had never said anything in his letters about his secret desire, only Mal…fucking hell, Mallory!

Alain stepped around Miranda and went to his knee. His much larger hand tugged Tyler’s hair. From his viewpoint, Tyler could see the arousal outlined beneath thin wool trousers. “Relax, pretty boy, these are but negotiations, you have not lost your power. We just think we can give you what you need, to fulfill your desire to serve. However, the rules must be established.”

Standing once more, Alain lifted Miranda to her feet. With her back to his front, Alain’s hands traveled over her body. Tyler could see the pleasure and peace in her features, so different from the power that surrounded her when Tyler knelt at her feet.

“She is mine, her mouth, her body,” His slender fingers trailed over Miranda’s full bottom lip, slid the strap of her dress downward to reveal the swell of heavy breast. Those fingers tweaked the distended nipple. Her moan of pleasure was so different from her orgasm as well. Tyler’s face flushed at the high needy sounds that drifted over him as Alain’s hand slid down her thigh and lifted the short skirt. Once again, her naked slit was before his eyes but it was for Alain’s pleasure not her own.

Tyler’s own switch nature rose to the fore, wanting to growl over possession of a beautiful submissive. Alain recognized it, his glittering eyes flashed with warning. “If it is my command, she will use her mouth on your unworthy piece of meat, if it pleases me to see her fucked, you may get the honor of taking my girl’s ass,” Alain’s hips ground into Miranda’s buttocks as his hand slipped between her thighs. Tyler could see the wet arousal as Miranda whined. “But this hole is mine alone,” Miranda went to her tiptoes and bucked her hips. Tyler knew those fingers were where his tongue wanted to be, his mouth watering for her taste.

“Do you understand, boy?”

He watched his beautiful Domme, so submissive for Alain, writhing on the fingers penetrating her. So fluid was her submission to her Master that her dominant side was not fighting for possession of Tyler. His gut clenched with needy pain, they truly were his ideal couple. Yet Tyler’s own switch nature was unsure of how he would serve Alain. He fantasized, like any red-blooded male would, but his proclivities had always lent itself to the female form, not male. Tyler’s voice was hoarse, “I understand, Sir.”

Alain’s full sensual lips lifted, “Good boy, my baby girl will train you well.”

He watched as Miranda’s Dom, her Daddy, bent her over the arm of her chair. The chair she sat in so regally. Her breasts exposed, Alain pushed up her skirt, revealing the pale curve of buttock. Miranda groaned, “Daddy,” as Alain sank the blunt head of his cock into her ass. The sound, the sight went straight to Tyler’s restrained cock.

The fuck was fast, brutal, Miranda’s knuckles whitened as she held on under the dominant show of possession. Alain’s hands balanced on her hip and her breast. His voice low and growling in her ear, reminding her that she was his, his baby girl, that he was her Daddy. She would moan, “Daddy,” over and over as the sound of slap of flesh against flesh got louder. Tyler could imagine the sting of heavy balls against tender thighs. He thought of what it would feel like, Alain’s powerful hips plowing his cock into Tyler’s bruised ass. His bound flesh dripped onto the soft carpet.

Alain’s hand went to Miranda’s throat, bringing her up and back onto his cock, the penetration going even deeper. His other hand buried between her thighs, her high call of “Daddy!” signaled her orgasm as her body shook in his arms.

Tyler stared at them in wonder as Alain lifted Miranda’s slight form into his arms and held her in the same chair. There was a softness that he was not accustom to and desired on very profound level. He wasn’t sure if that softness could feed all of his desires.

But the peace in Miranda’s expression as she nuzzled Alain before slipping to her knees made him yearn. Her dress was askew but she cleaned his cock with moans of pleasure. When she tucked him away, Miranda’s head rested upon Alain’s thigh. His hand was in her hair, the man husked, “My baby girl.” Again he lifted her and placed her in the chair. Alain pulled the dress that barely hung on her body off to leave her bare. Instead of sitting regally as she had with Tyler, Miranda curled into it, rubbing against the warmth that Alain had left behind. Her thumb brushed against her bottom lip and her fingers twisted in her pony tail. Very much the baby girl submissive for Alain, Tyler could see it and understand it.

He himself was very different when he dominated a sub, he could be cruel and sadistic. But he wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted for his submission. He wanted to let go and serve on his knees. He blinked at the feel of Alain’s hand him once more.

“Easy, boy,” His voice rumbled in his chest as he lifted Tyler onto his haunches. Tyler hissed as blood made pins and needles sensations prick at him. He bit back the hiss of pain as his heels dug into the bruised flesh of his ass.

Alain’s hands were efficient as the bondage rope and cuffs were removed. His touch helped the circulation return. It also put Tyler on the floor with Alain at his back, lips against Tyler’s neck as one arm crossed his chest to pull him into the warmth of Alain’s embrace.

“Sssshhhh,” His voice and the same whisper Miranda had used worked against whatever resistance Tyler could have had. His body went pliant against Alain.

“You will need to consider very carefully, boy,” Alain said conversationally as he freed Tyler’s cock. He groaned as it speared upward in freedom, it leaking clear fluid from the angry red head. “I don’t have much use for this.” His thumb pressed against the damp slit, making the hard flesh twitch. “And you will only be able to use it at my command.” Tyler felt the scrape of teeth against the nape of his neck. “Will it be about your cock, boy, or your service?”

Tyler turned his head against Alain’s shoulder and studied the stern profile. He could feel the half hard erection against his back. He licked his lips at the thought of being able to use his mouth to serve Alain as well as Miranda. “Service, Sir.”

Alain gave a vicious tug to Tyler’s engorged balls causing him to yelp, “Think, boy, Miranda is maternal as she is my baby girl. She will give you warmth with your pleasure but not the flash heat of sweet pain.” The voice darkened with promise, “I don’t hurt her because that is not how she is made to serve.” Tyler squirmed as Alain slapped at his nuts with a firm pressure that bordered on pain. “But I can give you that because you need it.”

Tyler hunched over to try and protect himself. Alain merely ran a soothing hand down his shaking his shoulders. It was all he could do not to come. “Yes, Sir, please.”

“Sssshhhh,” He was encouraged to rest against Alain’s warm chest, the cotton rasping and sticking to Tyler’s sweaty skin. “No need to beg, boy, I will give you what you need.”

Tyler’s hands went to Alain’s thighs to steady himself as the elegant fingers wrapped around his needy flesh. His fingers twisted in the soft wool. The arm that crossed from his hip to his shoulder held him tight. When he was not reprimanded, Tyler bucked into the tight fist, slicked by his own fluids. Alain’s thumb tapped at the sensitive bundle of nerves beneath the head and dug into the dribbling slit.

“Come, boy, give it up, bind yourself to me.”

Tyler cried out, his hips pistoning in a jerky rhythm, as his release boiled out of his gut to coat Alain’s hand that gently stroked him through his orgasm. He felt boneless as Alain fed him his own sticky white cum. Tyler lapped it away, feeling heavy and sleepy. “Next time it will be my seed, boy.” The promise had Tyler keening quietly.

The chuckle roused Tyler from his daze as Alain helped him to his feet. Miranda was napping, curled in the chair. He was deposited on a soft bed in a spare bedroom and covered with a duvet. Tyler's hair was pushed away from his forehead. “Join us in the library when you wake up, boy.”

“Yes, sir,” Tyler mumbled his eyes shuttering close.

“Master, boy, definitely going to be Master,” but Tyler did have the strength to answer.

When he awoke, he found the bathroom easily. As he cleaned himself, Tyler admired the bruising on his ass. He licked his lips at the thought of Alain’s cock in his mouth, of his tongue pleasing Miranda. Tyler padded naked into the library where Miranda curled into Alain’s side on the sofa.

“Kneel, Tyler,” Alain commanded. Tyler went to his knees between Alain’s spread thighs. He wanted to rest his weight against it. Miranda gave him a knowing smile.

The rest was formalities, words spoken, contracts signed. A leather cuff binding him to Alain, the tiny seed pearls representing Miranda, his contract was to be a six month trial. At the end was the promise of a collar to serve both Dom and Domme, to be a submissive sibling to a gorgeous switch.

Her fingers tugged at his hair, lifting Tyler’s face to her own. “Welcome home, pretty boy.” Miranda smiled kissing him lightly against the lips.

Tyler returned her smile as Alain’s squeeze to his nape had him resting his head against Alain’s thigh.

Home indeed, behind the doors held not only the Domme he had desired but the Dom he had yearned for.


End file.
